


sun and ocean blue, their magnificent, it don’t make sense to you.

by VPT



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: M/M, Too lazy to do tagging, Well - Freeform, but ANGST, definitely angst, enjoy, if I ever finish this, might be a happy ending, rating might go up later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 02:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19053490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VPT/pseuds/VPT
Summary: Life was beautiful, now he had a clue. Now he was going to drink and laugh and lock him in his heart. Sounded a lot like jumping off a cliff. And he was smiling the whole way down.





	sun and ocean blue, their magnificent, it don’t make sense to you.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of sleeping, so expect a lot of grammar faults and stuffs

Reyes Vidal wouldn’t say that he had a big dream or an ambitious goal. All he wished for was to be someone. But Milky Way already had all kind of someones, all kind of been-there-done-thats, there was no place for a kid born in a gutter somewhere on Earth like him. 

 

So he rolled the dice and boarded the Nexus with a fake ID, looking for a brand new start. But of course, shits happened. He traveled to a new place where everyone he knew died of old age or a stray bullets back home. A new place where ‘golden’ seemed to have a completely different meaning. 

 

Sloane Kelly was good, that he admitted, she managed to build Kadara port, gave them shits to live by when exile sounded like a sanitary death sentence. But she wasn’t a criminal, her ideals of crime lords came from movies where they casted a big jellyfish as the protagonist. She wasn’t Aria T’Loak and Kadara wasn’t Omega, so over here, the Charlatan thrived. 

 

Months and months passed by, time moved, faster than acid rain eating away weapons and scattered corpses. Hope was a luxury around here, you woke up and met people, none of them carried hope in their hearts anymore. If they had, the Uprising wouldn’t have happened and none of them would be here. They should have been given what they were promised, chilling on a tropical beach, drinking alcohol and catching up with the six hundred years they’ve lost. Instead, they were trapped on this planet, where life came up with a hundred and one ways to kill you. Some of them were very creative. 

 

Then one day, someone comm’ed in a not-so-secure channel, a channel that Reyes knew Vetra was listening in and orchestrating. A Pathfinder had arrived to Nexus and with him, the Hyperion. It wasn’t enough to spark hope up around here, but it got people moving and talking. 

 

He knew Alec Ryder. Many people signed for Andromeda because of his visions. For a thousand colonists there were ten of thousands reasons why they traveled across the dark space, and many of them were sparked because of Alec Ryder. 

 

What did this mean really? There didn’t seem to be much he could do around here with how fucked up this galaxy was. And would the exiles, them, be included into the paths he was going to find? But Reyes Vidal didn’t have to worry about a hardened soldier, definitely capable of seeing through his bullshits in a bat of an eye. Because Alec Ryder was dead. And his successor: a young Citadel-bred boy. 

 

Calm, collected and professional, a carbon-copy of his father, said his reports. Killing ketts, fixing worlds, only a matter of time before the Tempest arrived at Kadara Port. And Reyes Vidal made sure to be the first one the Pathfinder contact upon arrival. 

 

And damnit but Scott Ryder had the brightest eyes in all of Heleus’ stars. Sparkling, burning and full of life. There were so much to see in those golden eyes and Reyes Vidal hated how he loved them dearly. He thought, maybe he had found his golden world. 

 

But liked the wounded varren he once found and fed on Omega, it eventually succumbed to its fate. Commitment issue, some would say but Reyes just thought of life as an ever moving force, nothing stayed long enough, and you would only hurt yourself if you loved too much. 

 

But kissing Ryder, even if it was just for a mere second, a spontaneous action to distract the guard, was like a final nail to the coffin and Reyes Vidal fucked it all to the wind. He stood there, in Ryder’s arms, hand holding triple-stilled six hundred years old whiskey and enjoyed time. He thought it finally slowed down out of pity, to let him lived in this moment a little more. Sweet and fun and God but Ryder tasted better than burning whiskey on a rainy day. 

 

And he felt it, when Ryder said he was someone to him, he felt complete, his small, hopeless dream fulfilled. The second kiss made him wonder why he was still doing this. 

 

Life was beautiful, now he had a clue. Now he was going to drink and laugh and lock him in his heart. Sounded a lot like jumping off a cliff. And he was smiling the whole way down. 

 

The thing about falling though, was that you often regretted it at the end of the journey down, when surface felt like it was just an arm reach away. You regretted and you wanted to turn back time. You wanted to undo things, to change the future. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. But that was just a blatant lie. Fate didn’t need you to follow, it just happened. And when the Gods were silent, that was your answer. 

 

They weren’t meant to be. Because Scott Ryder was walking by Sloane Kelly’s side. Because he had a sniper in the dark, a shuttle at the back, and a bodybag. Reyes Vidal couldn’t back down, his back was against the wall he had built himself and in front of him were the spikes he had planted with his own hands. That hurt. 

 

“This whole time... you’ve been lying to me.” Fuck, that really hurt. 

 

In another life, Reyes Vidal might have knelt down and beg for forgiveness. In this one, however, he followed through with his plan. Even if when he looked down at Sloane’s cold corpse there was no satisfaction. There was no ‘it payed off, shit was worth it’ moment. Just Ryder’s burning suns colder than winter nights in the gutter. 

 

Things went smoothly after that, Kadara Port was his, the Initiative would set an outpost here and Kadara was no longer a fucked up shit hole even if none yet dared to drink straight from the water here. All in all, he had got everything he’d wanted. A good place to be someone. 

 

Except he felt empty watching the Tempest took off, heading out of the atmosphere, probably for the last time. 

 

He didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. To say ‘I’m sorry’. But he didn’t deserve that shit. 


End file.
